Don't Leave Me Alone
by Rinne
Summary: What happens when you have no hope left? Tony and Gibbs wait for rescue. Chapter 4 uploaded.
1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers:** General for third season, up to at least 3.10 (Probie).

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything, not being paid.

**A/N:** I started writing this as a Christmas present for Tweeter in December last year, and finished it in March. Huge thanks to Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain and Kate98 for betaing.

_Don't leave me alone. Please, don't leave me alone._

He glanced over at the man and pulled his bent legs closer to his body. "Do you ever worry, Boss?"

"About what, DiNozzo?" came the quiet reply.

He hesitated. "Never mind." He rubbed his hands along his legs, trying to warm them. "Do you ever worry that one of us is going to screw up so badly that it'll get you killed?"

There was silence for a few moments, and Tony thought Gibbs wasn't going to answer. He was about to tell Gibbs to forget it, when the other man replied, "Of course I do."

Tony felt his heart speed up painfully at Gibbs' words. He may have hoped that Gibbs would answer in the negative, but he'd known that there was no way he could.

"But I also worry that I'll get one of you killed. After all, it's already happened."

_Kate_. That was the only person Gibbs could be referring to. "That wasn't your fault, Boss." Tony's heart settled into a normal rhythm as he pulled his legs even closer, shivering slightly, finding it difficult to draw in a full breath.

"Just like it wasn't my fault that you were shackled to a murderer?"

"No," he protested, wishing he could get Gibbs to face him. "You couldn't have known. I was _chained_ to the man, and I didn't pick it up until it was almost too late."

"When we found-" Gibbs broke off. "I was terrified that it was you. You should never have been in that situation."

Tony leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"You're like a son to me."

He rolled his head towards Gibbs and opened his eyes. Nothing had changed. "Please don't leave me alone here," he whispered. There was no reply. He turned to lie on his other side, facing away from Gibbs. He hissed in pain as his muscles protested the abuse of moving, and swallowed a cough. His head pounded as he tried to settle himself comfortably.

Comfortable. That was a joke.

"What, Tony?"

He hadn't realised he'd spoken aloud; he was more tired than he had thought. "I said you definitely can't fault them for their hospitality." He reached out a hand to the brick wall, running a finger down its roughness. When he reached the concrete floor, he started again, following the lines of the mortar.

"We're going to get out of here."

Tony gave a short humourless laugh, withdrawing his hand from the wall and studying his dirty fingers. "Sure we will. I bet McGee-" sitting happily at Tony's desk, "and Ziva are looking everywhere for us." _Not us, you._ "After all, you're the Director's 'best Agent'. She won't want to lose you," he muttered, putting air quotes around the words.

Tony took the heavy silence from the other man as agreement with his assessment. He pressed his lips together tightly. As much as he was used to it, it still hurt. He wasn't asking for much, but he never got it. "Why can't you ever tell me that I've done a good job?" He felt his throat start to tighten up as he breathed the words. "Is it because I disappoint you?"

"Tony."

Tony jerked over to face Gibbs, feeling his heart rise slightly, but the man was unmoving, still. He smiled, mocking himself. "I must be starting to lose it, Boss. Not that you can hear me." Hearing would be the next thing to go, after his eyesight. "Or that you care."

He could feel the tears hovering, it wouldn't take much to push them over the edge. "Nobody ever cares."

He sniffed and manoeuvred himself flat on the floor, copying Gibbs' pose. His emotions were so raw, so close to the surface, that they were exhausting him. He closed his eyes and listened to his own breathing. It hitched every so often, as a new bruise or sore muscle made itself felt.

He was alone. It was something that he'd tried to avoid most of his life, as it terrified him more than any gun-wielding maniac ever could. Would anyone care that he was missing? Did anyone actually _care_ about him? From what he could remember of when he was sick with the plague, Kate had genuinely seemed to care. The jury was out on whether Gibbs had, he just wasn't sure. Gibbs' words had provided him with the belief he had needed to get well, but he was sure that there was no affection there - just a boss who didn't want to have to fill out the paperwork involved with a subordinate's death. As uncaring as his father's order for a doctor to look him over after managing to forget about him for two days.

"I'll be good, just please don't leave me alone." He glanced over at Gibbs to see whether his whispered plea had any effect. Just like before, it hadn't.

"My father never apologised for forgetting me in Maui. He never explained, never offered any excuse. The only way I got through it was by watching movies, and imagining that I was a part of them. I imagined that I was the son of a sea-cook - you know, that old Cary Grant movie, _Arsenic and Old Lace_?"

"Yeah, I know," Gibbs quietly said.

"God, I loved that movie. I'd run up the stairs to my room yelling 'charge' and slam the door. It used to drive my parents nuts." He sniggered. "Once, they were hosting a party. I had to put in an appearance, because, you know, got to be the dutiful son. I started telling the guests how my parents had me digging a canal in the basement and burying all the help that my mother hired." He shifted slightly, trying to take pressure off a particularly sore point in his back. He started coughing, finding it hard to draw in a breath. Tony lifted himself up, the need to breathe outweighing the pain the movement provoked. His breathing eased, and he dragged himself back to lean against the cold wall. "Of course, they didn't believe a word I said, they'd just look at me with pity in their eyes. I topped the evening off by doing the charge." He chuckled softly, coughing at the end of it. "About ten years ago, I ran into a woman who was there, that night. She still looked at me as if I were nuts."

Tony looked at Gibbs. "Classic attention seeking behaviour, acting out. Those were all the words that the shrink my mother sent me to used. She diagnosed me as a brat, said that I needed discipline." His smile soured.

"Still do." The soft words were good humoured.

"You're probably right," Tony agreed. He yawned widely, feeling the congestion in his chest. "You know, the only thing that they never tried was actually giving me attention. I wouldn't have had to act out if they had."

"You should sleep; save your energy."

"Okay, Boss," he murmured, letting his eyes closed. "I'll sleep for a little while."

_

* * *

_

_He yanked his arm away from the man behind him, not needing to be pushed into his 'room'. He walked through the door, taking in the four star accommodation. Gibbs was back in the cell, lying on the floor, not moving. His eyes were closed._

_"Your Boss, he didn't do so well. Hope you like talking to a ghost." The man behind him laughed, and closed the door._

_He stood, frozen, not wanting to believe it. He couldn't breathe. _

_Gibbs was dead._

**TBC ...**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Big thank you to Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain and Kate98 for betaing

* * *

He couldn't breathe. He woke panicking, trying to fill his lungs. He was going to die, the plague was going to kill him, and he was alone. 

"Tony, listen to me. You're not going to die."

This time, the words didn't ground him. He watched Gibbs' unmoving body as he tried to pull air into his lungs. Every second that passed made him panic more.

"You have to calm down. Damnit, Tony, you are not going to die on me."

He started coughing weakly, trying to move the mucus that was blocking his throat. The movements hurt his entire body, but particularly his chest and stomach muscles. Finally the obstruction cleared from his throat and he could breathe. It wasn't comfortable, but at least he was getting air.

Tony wiped his arm across his mouth, clearing the saliva from his coughing. His lips and throat were dry, but the little water they'd been given was on the far side of the room. Gibbs lay between him and it; he was going to remain thirsty.

"You should drink."

"I'm fine." His hoarse voice indicated otherwise, but he wasn't going to acknowledge that.

"No, you're not. They're coming for us, and I'm going to be pissed if you're not alive when they get here."

"You drink, then." He was aware that he sounded petulant, but he really didn't care. If it was so important, Gibbs could make the first move. "See, you're not going to drink, so why should I?" Tony waved a finger in Gibbs' general direction, before letting his arm fall to his side. He felt like his energy was flowing out of him into the floor and the wall.

"I would, but it won't help. I'm dead."

Tony shook his head and closed his eyes tightly. He hummed, trying to block out the words, but after a few seconds he dissolved into a coughing fit. "You're not dead. The great Gibbs can't die."

"Thank you for elevating me to immortality, DiNozzo."

"You're welcome." He pulled his knees towards him and rested his face on his thigh, blocking out the world.

"He told you that I'm dead. Why would he lie?"

Tony laughed abruptly. "To screw me up even more than I am already, maybe?"

"I didn't think that was possible."

"You're meant to be dead, remember?" He lifted his head and rested his chin on his knees.

"I might not be. You haven't checked."

Tony stared intently at Gibbs. "You're not moving, I can't see your chest going up and down, there's blood, and he said you were dead. I hate to break it to you, Boss, but you're dead."

"Good, your defensive mechanism is back in place. You were starting to worry me."

Tony smiled, feeling a tear slide down his cheek.

"Still doesn't mean I am dead though."

"I'm not checking on you, Boss. You're dead, but-"

"If I really am, you don't want to know. And there's nothing you can do to help me if I am alive, because I'm unconscious, so you can't give me any water, and there's no way to tell how bad my injuries are."

Tony nodded. Somehow Gibbs always seemed to understand what he was thinking, and why he was thinking it. It could be really useful, like now, but other times it was just plain frustrating. Often, it resulted in a slap to the back of the head before he even said anything to warrant it. "Why do you slap me on the back of the head?"

"Because you deserve it."

He smiled at the answer. "Well, there is that. But sometimes other people deserve it."

"What do you want me to say, DiNozzo? That it's a sign of affection? That I care about you?"

His smile faded, and he squeezed his knees. "Of course not." He tried to put his customary levity into his voice, but found he couldn't.

"I mean think about it, somebody slapping you as a sign of affection?"

"I know, Boss," he assured Gibbs. "Crazy, huh?"

"Ya think? You know, what I've never gotten is why you feel the need to share things about yourself with everybody. We don't want to know all about your love life and your screwed-up childhood. You just never shut up."

Tony struggled hard to repress tears at Gibbs' words. It wasn't anything he hadn't thought before, but it hurt to actually hear Gibbs say them. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll be good; I won't talk, I won't interrupt, I'll keep my smart-ass comments to myself. I promise." He hid his face behind his bent knees again, brushing the wetness off onto his pants.

"Good. You know why I hired Kate, McGee and Ziva don't you? I want to replace you. If Kate hadn't died, you would have been replaced. People actually _liked_ her. It should have been you that took that bullet. She had family and friends that grieved for her - what do you have?"

"Nothing," he murmured into the pants.

"What did you say? I can't hear you."

He raised his head and faced Gibbs, feeling tears sliding down his cheeks. "Nothing," he screamed. "That's what I have. Nothing."

"Good to see you've finally learnt."

"Oh, I learnt." He felt the pain rise, making his voice harsh. "I learnt when my mother ignored the fact that I was too terrified to sleep in my room, when my father was so drunk that he forgot about me for two days, and when he told me that I was going to end up in the gutter. I learnt, Gibbs, a long time ago. Guess it was stupid to hope that things could be different."

Tony let his body fall back against the wall, and closed his eyes. His choked sobs were the only sounds in the room. His eyelids were heavy, his eyes gritty from crying. Maybe if he slept, he'd dream of rainbows, puppy dogs, and people that actually cared about him.

_

* * *

_

_He woke up, uncertain as to where he was._

_The floor was hard, the light dim, and there was a smell._

_He knew that smell. _

_Decay._

_There were two desiccated corpses chained to the walls that surrounded him._

_He was chained to a wall._

_He was going to die._

_Alone._

* * *

His eyes still felt gritty; what little sleep he'd managed to get had left him feeling more exhausted then when he'd drifted off. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, feeling them blur with some that had escaped from the corners. "So, what are we going to talk about this time, Gibbs? How much you like me, or how annoying I am?" 

"You know that you're not really talking to me, so what does that say about you?"

"Ah, answering a question with a question, one of the classic avoidance techniques. Guess you've had years to work on that one, right?" Tony rubbed the sleep between his dirty fingertips, only just realising that what he'd done was not incredibly hygienic. He shrugged and brushed his fingers on his pants, adding to the dirt already there.

"Back at you."

"Do you think they've given up by now? I mean, what, it's got to have been a couple of days since they grabbed us. If they haven't found us in the first 48 hours, there's not going to be much of a chance of them finding us. How long before Madam Director takes everybody off the case?"

"They're going to find us. Nobody gets left behind."

He grinned tiredly. "Maybe if you're looking for us. If you were, I wouldn't be worrying."

"That's a semi-circular statement, Tony."

Tony's grin widened at the obvious amusement in Gibbs' voice. "Let's see whether you make any sense when you're this tired and concussed. At least, I _think_ I'm concussed, I'm not certain though. Thinking is a little difficult."

"Isn't that the story of your life?"

Tony shifted against the wall, his butt was numb. "What, being concussed? I'd give anything for a cushion right now. Do you remember those _Choose your Own Adventure_ books?"

"Of course I do, because you do."

"Turn to page nine if you want to be rescued. If only life worked that way." Giving up on getting comfortable against the wall, he wiggled down to lay on his side again. "I wish I had more padding on my butt, this wouldn't be anywhere near as uncomfortable."

"Ah, but then it wouldn't be a five."

Tony giggled. "I can't believe she gave me a two for excessive hair."

"See, that comes under don't ask, don't tell. You're rambling."

"Am I? I hadn't noticed. Although, I do have a tendency to ramble when I'm going to die. Making the most of what time I have left, I suppose." He gingerly lifted the arm he was lying on and positioned it to support his head.

"You're not going to die."

"I've always wondered, which would be the better way to go. Like this, knowing nobody will find you, but hoping they will, or gone in a second, not even having time to feel it. Of course, it's a little hard to decide, because it's not like you can do both. But I've always leant towards being gone in a second." Tony coughed, feeling sweat form on his forehead from the exertion.

"Like Kate."

"Like Kate. Do you miss her, Gibbs? Of course you do, you just don't let us see it. I miss her. I know, you're surprised. But even though she was an absolute pain in the ass at times, I liked her." He breathed out a laugh. "Ducky thought that there was sexual tension between us...not me and Ducky, me and Kate. I don't think either of us had realised it, until he told us. I mean, it's not as if we'd have ever actually got together - that would be a disaster waiting to happen. We'd have killed each other, and I think my death would have been more painful."

"It might have worked out."

Tony snorted. "Yeah, right. I'm not going to change, and it's me that's the problem. No girl...no _woman_, should have to put up with me. It's not fair to them. I mean, I could blame everything on my parents, and my neglected upbringing, but it can't just be that."

"Nature versus nurture."

"Yep. Part of it has to be me; there has to be a reason that it all started."

**TBC ...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Huge thanks to Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain and Kate98 for betaing.

_ His face was wet._

_Why was his face wet?_

_There was a noise, it was loud._

_A gun shot._

_There's Gibbs._

_Where's Kate?_

_Oh, God._

_

* * *

_  
Kate. She was shot.

His face was wet. It was her blood.

"Tony. Tony, can you hear me?"

Her blood.

"Tony, you have to calm down. The paramedics are on their way, but you need to stay calm till they get here. You need to take slow breaths."

He had to get it off. It was her blood, it shouldn't be on his face. He needed to get it off.

"Need to get it off."

"Tony, stop it! You're going to hurt yourself!"

Somebody was trying to stop him getting it off. They were trying to pin his hands down to his sides. He lashed out blindly, trying to get them to let him go.

"I don't know what's wrong. He's trying to scratch his face, he won't stop struggling."

"Tony, stop it."

He stopped. "Okay, Boss."

"Tony."

Somebody was tapping his face. He weakly moved a hand up, to try and swat it away.

"Tony, do you know where you are?"

The person was annoying, but maybe if he answered, they'd leave him alone. "Roof. Kate." He started coughing, his throat was irritated and his chest felt congested. He had blood on his face, why was his throat irritated? It could be a left over from the plague, but he'd only felt fatigued for the last day or so, most of the other symptoms were gone.

"No, Tony. You're not on the roof."

The person was still talking, but he'd tuned them out. He had to figure this out: if he wasn't on the roof, maybe it wasn't blood on his face. He brought his hand up tentatively to his face, and wiped his fingers along his cheek. The other person had grabbed his wrist, but let him move his fingers in front of his eyes. No blood, just clear fluid. Tears. He wasn't on the roof.

His eyes finally focussed properly on the person in front of him. McGee.

"Tony?" McGee said, with a frown. He looked scared and worried.

Tony looked past him, to see Ziva kneeling beside Gibbs. She glanced up in his direction, worry also visible on her face.

Tony remembered. "Gibbs is dead."

Ziva quickly reassured him, "No, he isn't. He's been in and out of consciousness. He hasn't spoken, but he's been awake."

He could feel himself frowning. Gibbs wasn't dead. He'd been wrong: Gibbs wasn't dead.

"I told you I might not be dead."

"Yeah, well, you've always got to be right, don't you, Gibbs?"

He looked back at McGee, who was staring at him intently. "Tony, who are you talking to?"

"Gibbs," he said matter-of-factly.

"Okay," McGee finally said, looking at him like he might start gibbering and jumping around the room doing a monkey impression at any second.

"He can't hear me, remember? I'm in your head."

"I know he can't hear you. I may be concussed and dehydrated, but I'm not stupid. Hey, you're not dead, I can get some water now!" He tried to get up, only to have McGee restrain him, this time looking at him like he _was_ the monkey.

"Tony, the paramedics will be here soon, just stay where you are. I'll get the water."

McGee's words were fuzzy, trying to get up hadn't been such a good idea.

"See, I knew it was a bad idea to try and get the water."

"Ya think?"

* * *

Tony woke up in a hospital room. The room was bright enough to force him to squint. 

"Tony."

He looked to his right, where the voice had come from, to see Kate.

"Kate?"

He sat up on his elbows and pushed himself to rest against the back of the bed.

"Who else, Tony?" She moved closer. "You didn't protect him."

"What?" He was confused. "Who didn't I protect?"

She placed herself in front of him, her hands resting on the bed as she stuck her face right in front of his.

"Who do you think?" she yelled. "Gibbs! He's dead because of you. He was trying to protect you."

"No," he protested quietly, drawing back from her and shaking his head.

"Yes. He was lying there, not moving. You saw that. They didn't do anything near as bad as that to you. Why?"

"I don't know!" He shook his head.

"He was protecting you, stopping them from thinking that you knew anything. I guess they believed it, huh? Although, that was probably not too hard, you're not exactly the brightest person around."

His eyes widened. "Hey!"

"You know it." Her voice grew quiet. "You killed him. It was your fault. Everything that you touch goes wrong-"

The room around him morphed into his childhood home, and Kate changed into his father. There was no feeling of unreality, everything that was happening was perfectly normal.

"You're never going to get anywhere with that attitude. You understand?"

Tony nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He tried to ease himself slowly away from his father. His father was a vampire. Tony didn't know why, but he knew it. Somehow, something had happened, and he'd been turned into one. He felt his heart rate climbing, his breath quickening, as he slowly backed away.

"What's wrong, Tony?" The sentence finished with Gibbs standing in front of him, his incisors now fangs.

Tony turned and ran out of the room, feeling Gibbs following behind him. He made it to the front door, and fumbled with the dead bolt, awkwardly trying to open it. He finally unlocked it and wrenched the door open. The screen door stood between him and freedom. He flipped the lock open and grabbed the handle. Just as he was about to turn it, he felt arms about his body and Gibbs' breath beside his ear.

"Going somewhere, DiNozzo?"

Time stood still as his body and brain shut down. Gibbs' face got closer to his neck, waking Tony's survival instincts. He reached into his pocket without thinking about it, grabbed his keys, turned and stabbed Gibbs in the chest.

Gibbs looked down in shock, before crumpling to the floor. His body lay flat and still, eyes closed.

"You did this." Kate's insistent voice came from behind him.

"No," he denied, not believing what had happened.

"You killed him."

"No." He whirled to confront her. He was standing in the middle of a football field. There was nobody around; the world was quiet. There was trash on the ground, being blown listlessly by the wind. He pivoted quickly, searching each direction, trying to decide what to do. Spotting a break in the surrounding fence, he walked towards it, and stepped out into a street.

There were no cars, parked or travelling. No people, no animals; just emptiness. He started walking down the middle of the street, ignoring the instinct that told him that was dangerous. There was nothing around, it couldn't be. How often did he get to walk down the middle of a street anyway?

The street led to a parking lot. There was a car, he approached it, his footsteps loud on the concrete, and looked through the window. Gibbs lay dead in the back seat, a bullet hole through his head and one through his chest.

"You did this."

"No."

"It would have been better if you had let me kill you. Kate would still be alive, so would Gibbs."

His stomach dropped at the words. Jeffrey was right. If he'd just let Jeffrey slit his throat, everyone would have been okay. It's not like they would have cared that he was dead; Gibbs would have been expecting it, considering the blood that was on the windows.

It would have been easier.

"I could kill you now, if you want." The words were right next to his ear.

"Kill me."

"Tony, no."

"Ducky?" Tony looked around, trying to spot the man.

"Tony, we need you, you can't give up. Gibbs needs you."

Tony felt his brow furrow in confusion and grief. "Gibbs is dead."

"No, he's not. Tony, you need to fight."

"I saw him, Ducky, he was dead."

"That's right, I'm dead, aren't I?" Gibbs' voice was beside his ear. "You killed me."

Tony felt his knees give out, and he fell to the ground. "I didn't want this to happen."

"It still happened, though, didn't it?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

** TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Huge thanks to Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain and kate98 for betaing.

Tony woke suddenly. He felt hot and his body ached.

"Tony."

He jerked his head to the side where the voice had come from, wanting to be sure that what he'd heard was correct. His vision greyed out for a few seconds, but when it cleared, he saw what he hadn't dared to hope that he'd see.

"Gibbs?" Everything that had happened came back to him with a rush. McGee and Ziva had found them, and he'd been so sure that Gibbs was dead. He'd woken up before, and Kate had been there. She was dead, that had to have been a dream. Maybe this was one too.

Gibbs smiled that odd little half-smile, and suddenly he knew it wasn't a dream. He could fuzzily remember Ziva telling him that Gibbs was alive, and him deciding, stupidly, to try and get a drink.

"Tony, you with me?" Gibbs asked gently.

He had to blink a few times to really focus on his boss. "I think so," he said hesitantly. "I don't feel so good. It's hot."

Gibbs looked at him with an almost tender expression. "You've been pretty sick," he admitted.

"Weren't you, too?" Tony could remember Gibbs lying there so still, not moving for so many hours, that he seemed dead.

"I'm okay," Gibbs said.

Tony narrowed his eyes; that didn't answer his question.

Gibbs sighed and smiled in exasperation. "You don't remember, but I've already explained this to you."

It was hard to figure out how Gibbs could have already explained it to him; he didn't remember anything like that. "You did?"

"Yep. You've had a fever."

"Explain it to me again?" he asked hopefully.

Gibbs raised a hand and gently cuffed him on the side of the head. Tony didn't want to complain, but even that very gentle touch made his head throb even further. "They think that I was given something that acted like a muscle relaxant and an anaesthetic. I was awake for quite a lot of the time that we were there, but I couldn't speak or move." Tony opened his mouth, but Gibbs held up a hand. "So, yes, I heard a lot of what you said."

"How bad?"

Gibbs grinned. "Define bad. If bad includes telling your parents' guests that the help was buried in the basement, and then charging up to your room, then it's bad."

"Oh." Tony closed his eyes. That was bad. He couldn't think how it could get worse.

"Of course, there was also the two for excessive hair."

He groaned. This was Anthony DiNozzo they were talking about, so, of course it could get worse.

"Tony, I need you to remember something. You're not alone," Gibbs' face was deadly serious, his tone sombre, "and you've _never_ disappointed me. Well, other than when you played with the poison ivy, you should have known better." He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Tony swallowed, holding back stinging tears. "The only reason you said that is because I'm not going to remember this," he accused, his voice raspy. He was ridiculously grateful to Gibbs for saying the words, but pissed off as all hell that he wasn't going to remember them. It wasn't fair that the only validation he got was something that could never really see the light of day.

Gibbs lightly tapped his head again. "You wouldn't be on my team if you didn't belong there, DiNozzo."

Tony nodded, his eyes sliding shut. He'd just close them for a minute.

* * *

Tony sat at his desk. He moved the pens and highlighters off to the side, pushed the paperwork that he still hadn't waded through to the back. The office was quiet; it was early, and nobody was in yet. He liked it like this: no noise or people to distract him. He was finally back on full duties today, and he wanted to be ready and waiting for the rest of his team. 

Things wouldn't be different for them; after all, he'd been at work the day before. But it felt different to him. Today he could get back to doing his job, and he could stop worrying. He'd been off sick for several weeks and Gibbs hadn't replaced him. Nobody had taken his place, and nobody was going to.

The elevator door opened and Gibbs came striding out. "Call McGee and Ziva," he ordered as he rushed to his desk. "We've got a body."

Tony picked up the phone. "On it, Boss."

**The End**


End file.
